


Breaking Dorm

by DwarvenGatorade



Series: Cracks of Valdemar [4]
Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer, Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarvenGatorade/pseuds/DwarvenGatorade
Summary: Vanyel and Leareth — professor and student respectively at Valdemar Prep Boarding School in Haven, Washington — each hide a dark secret. The dark secret is that they're in a parody of Twilight.
Series: Cracks of Valdemar [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813504
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Breaking Dorm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swimmer963](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swimmer963/gifts).



_Valdemar Prep Boarding School_

_Haven, WA_

_Go Fighting Heralds!_

Mr. Ashkevron cleared his throat. “Is something back there more interesting than the molecular structure of hemoglobin, boys?”

In the back row of the classroom, the “goth kids” — Krebain, Leareth, and Vedric — suppressed giggles. Krebain rubbed at his eyes; Leareth stared straight ahead; Vedric coughed loudly and pointed at the desk in front of Leareth.

A folded piece of lined paper.

“Would you care to show the class what’s so funny, Mr. Ma’ar?”

Rolling his eyes, Leareth stood and unfolded the note. Pictured was an anatomically fanciful sketch of Mr. Ashkevron, whacking it with one hairy-palmed hand, and howling at the full moon, which itself contained the face of Stefen Thebard.

Krebain and Vedric cracked up, students throughout the class tittered or bit their tongues, and two rows up, Stefen headdesked.

“Sit, Mr. Ma’ar. You will stay after. Everyone, turn to page 413 and let’s see if we can learn something today, hmm?”

After the bell rang and the other students filed out, Leareth stood in front of Mr. Ashkevron’s desk.

“You realize that wasn’t my note, sir.”

Mr. Ashkevron leaned forward, fingers interlaced. “Of course. You’re the last person who’d want students taking any rumors of the supernatural too seriously.”

Leareth raised an eyebrow.

“I saw you in the rooftop swimming pool that day in March, when the sky cleared for just a moment. Your skin sparkled like a thousand stars in a night sky.” Revealing this, Mr. Ashkevron seemed not triumphant, but... inspired.

“I did my research,” he continued. “You’re not just descended from the Ma’ar line who propped up Constantine, advised Saladin, and ruled Renaissance Russia from the shadows — you _are_ that line.”

In the face of Leareth’s silence, Vanyel leaned back in his chair. “I only question what a 2000-year-old vampire is doing pretending to be a high school student in Haven, Washington.”

Leareth clutched his hands behind his back. “One might equally question what a lupomorph is doing teaching organic chemistry to a child he has sexually imprinted on.”

Mr. Ashkevron slammed a hand on his desk — then looked self-consciously at the classroom door. “You know damn well my kind’s imprinting is completely platonic until the imprintee turns 18.”

“Or whatever the local age of consent happens to be,” Leareth added.

Mr. Ashkevron’s face turned red and he started to speak, but stopped himself. He held up a hand. “Enough. This isn’t why I wanted to speak with you.” He stood, and paced over to the far side of the chalkboard, stared out the window onto the forest.

Leareth watched, and waited.

“What do you know about the missing girls?”

“Only what is known throughout the school,” Leareth answered. “A student left campus one weekend two months ago under her own power and did not return. A month later, another student left as well. Similar circumstances, no connection.”

Mr. Ashkevron’s knuckles went white on the wooden windowsill. “They had _names_ , Leareth. Featherfire Birdperson. Arven Suncult. And now... Jisa Ashkevron.”

Leareth’s eyes widened minutely. “Oh dear. Daddy Wolf suspects that the vampire stole his daughter.”

“Don’t play games with me, Leareth!” Mr. Ashkevron whirled around, a splintery crack reporting that he had brought the windowsill with him.

He took a deep breath and set the broken board in the nearby chalk tray. “I _know_ that she didn’t — _they_ didn’t — just run away. I looked at their school email accounts last night. All three of them exchanged tawdry, amateurishly written communications with the same outside account, which culminated in an invitation to meet in the forest at midnight.”

Leareth chose his words carefully. “A... _vile_ predator, to be sure, yet... I do not _believe_ such signs point to —“

“The outside account is ‘sexy-ancient-vampire@hotmail.com’.”

Leareth pursed his lips. “I see.”

Mr. Ashkevron menaced closer. “Where are they, Leareth. Did you break their hearts and leave them dead in a ditch? Did you mystically enthrall them to serve you as part of some teen-horror-punk harem? Did you turn them into a trio of badass vampiresses to join you in your dark hunt?” He grabbed Leareth by his black silk shirt and hoisted him in the air. “Where are they?!”

As Mr. Ashkevron held him in the air and shook him for answers, a flicker of fear briefly crossed one of Leareth’s eyebrows. Then he noticed his teacher’s eyes. After a few moments, he cleared his throat. The shaking paused.

“Silver irises. The eyes of a lupomorph who has not gone mad. You are outraged, and afraid, but not yet overcome by the Beast within.”

Mr. Ashkevron took a huge breath, and set his student down.

“Observe my irises,” Leareth continued. “Golden. The eyes of a vampire who has not succumbed to the venomous nectar of human blood in the last revolution of the sun. I am not your enemy, Mr. Ashkevron.”

Mr. Ashkevron stepped back, but kept his gaze fixed. “Oh, the eyes are the window to the soul? Please. How do I know you’re not just... wearing gold-colored contact lenses or something?”

Leareth gave an unimpressed look. “I was a _count_ , sir. Such a cheap trick is beneath me. Only a truly undignified, low-life, classless husk of an undead...”

His mind turned to his seatmates, who had never been enthusiastic about following his slow, careful plan for vampires to take their proper place in society... one of whom had recently acquired the habit of rubbing his eyes.

Leareth smoothed his shirt. “I believe I have what you might call a ‘lead’. I will help find your daughter, Mr. Ashkevron, and the others. But know that it will _cost_. And a vampire’s price is always paid.”

Mr. Ashkevron’s face turned resolute. “For Jisa? I’d pay any price.”

“Then come along, Mr. Ashkevron.” Leareth opened the classroom door and turned back to his teacher with a dramatic swoop of his hair. “We’ve got a monster to catch.”

_FIN_


End file.
